Julio Gómez (1886-1973) was a much-loved
member of a generation of composers which also included Turina, Guridi and
Donostia. Father of Spain’s leading contemporary musicologist Carlos
Gómez Amat, his own work as a teacher, researcher and critic
overshadowed his own creative output during a long lifetime; and only in the
last few years – not least through the good offices of Verso – has
it is been possible to sample his orchestral music and songs on disc.

Not so much a musical nationalist as an
outright isolationist, Gómez embraced an introspective,
arch-conservative ethic which sets his music poles apart from the progressive
Russian, French and German influences felt in the work of those Spanish
contemporaries. His unfailing good taste, craftsmanship and detailed
responsiveness to poetry merit respect. His music has a strong sense of place
and full emotional range, from the florescent melancholy of the Tres
canciones of 1920-23 with their driving dance rhythms, to the delicate
austerity of the later Japanese settings. What remains elusive is a personal
voice able to harness the well-honed technique and sensitive intelligence. If
Gómez never frightens the horses, rarely does he set their blood
racing.

Yet repeated listening enhances the mild pleasures to be had
from these songs – about half his output, presented in chronological
order. The performers’ qualities help, too. Anna Tonna
can rein in her opulent, firm young mezzo (so excitingly voluminous in the
opera and zarzuela house) to delicate effect, and her interpretations –
like Jorge Robaina’s pianism – are well varied
according to mood and meaning. Just occasionally Tonna is prone to sing a
phrase below the note, which jars on repetition: it’s frustrating that
time couldn’t be taken to correct these blips in her otherwise first-rate
advocacy of a neglected composer. The recording itself is airy and spacious, if
marginally distant, and we’re given an English translation of
Beatriz Martínez del Fresno’s comprehensive Spanish
notes, though not alas of the sung texts.

Gómez is at his most persuasive in the substantial
Juana de Ibarbourou settings from 1934, culminating in the radiant
Descanso (‘relaxation’) which is perhaps the highlight
here, showcasing Tonna’s impressive technique and vocal lustre at their
best. Though the piano original wins out in intimacy and distilled emotional
power, the composer’s orchestrated version of this same cycle can be
heard sung by Susana Cordón with the Spanish National Youth Orchestra,
in a desirable 2-CD album from Verso entitled España, de dentro a
fuera, alongside works by Lalo, Rimsky-Korsakov, Guridi, Toldrá and
others (VS2033). Spanish Song yielded rich romantic pickings, and the best of
Gómez’s output deserves to take its place amongst the fruits of
the harvest. It’s very good to have this representative and recommendable
selection of his vocal works available.